


A crown for a Queen

by XxByImm



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxByImm/pseuds/XxByImm
Summary: Reader has been on the quest for the lonely mountain with Thorin Oakenshield and his company. She has seen it all: the dragon, Thorin's sickness and the battle for Erebor. Because she is secretly in love with Thorin, she leaves the mountain for the city of Dale, to fend for herself as a skilled jewelry maker. She cannot bear to watch Thorin picking a random dwarrowdam as his queen. It would crush her. Little does she know that Thorin has feelings for her and wants her back at his side...





	A crown for a Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriyanThesilverWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriyanThesilverWolf/gifts).



> So, this is a request I got on tumblr, by our AO3 writer @MiriyanThesilverWolf! Go check her out, she's writing awesome Thorin x Reader oneshots. :3
> 
> I hope you do enjoy. Tell me what you think of it down below! 
> 
> xoxo

‘Are you ready?’ you ask your friend.  
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’ He says.

You are in your little working station in the city of Dale, and your friend is eyeing you nervously. You smile and turn around to get the wedding rings he asked you to make months ago. Actually, those two rings are the reason you ended up being friends in the first place! Ramsey and you met a few months after the battle for Erebor, or “the battle of the five armies” as the people like to call it. You had just settled in the city of Dale and tried to make a living as a respected jewelry maker, but it was hard to make means end. You’ll never forget the day Ramsey, a young wealthy merchant’s son, came into your work place and showed you a design his betrothed had drawn.  
‘Can you craft this for me?’ he had asked. ‘I’m quite desperate.’  
You had accepted his offer, but told him it would take you months to complete such an intricate design. And that it would cost a fortune. Ramsey in his turn told you he didn’t care about money, or the time it would take. Everything for his fiancée. 

So as the months passed by, Ramsey often came by your place to see how the rings were doing. He told you all about his life, and you about yours. You told him how you ended up in the company of Thorin Oakenshield. How you and the company reconquered Erebor and stood bravely against the enemy in the battle that followed. How you helped Thorin build up Erebor again. 

‘Please don’t tell me you screwed up, Mir.’  
Ramsey’s voice brings you back to business. His tone might be teasing, but you also detect a hint of seriousness in there that tells you how much he cares. Of course you wouldn’t screw up! How could you ever?  
You laugh and decide to tease him some more. ‘You’re too late, Rams. The damage is already done.’  
‘Don’t you dare to…’ he begins, but then gasps as you open your hand.  
‘They are… breathtaking!’ he stammers.  
‘I’m glad you like it.’ You say. ‘I hope Faylinn will love it as much as you do.’  
‘It’s exactly what she wants. I’m sure of it.’ Ramsey answers as he takes the rings from you. ‘They’re so… refined. Just like Fay.’  
‘You’re the best, Miriyan!’ Ramsey tells you and he throws a little leather purse in your direction. ‘Here’s your payment. As promised.’  
You open the purse and take a peek inside.  
‘But that’s more than we agreed on!’ you instantly object.  
‘You deserve it.’ Ramsey smiles as he opens the door of your little shop. ‘Mir, I have to run. Fay expects me at her place. Now.’  
‘Well, hurry up then. And don’t forget about me when you’re married.’ You wink.  
Ramsey sighs dramatically. ‘Of course not. How could I? You know, I bet when Faylinn sees our wedding rings, she’ll want you to make more jewelry.’  
You giggle as you watch your friend leaving your little shop. 

A few hours later you’re repairing a necklace for the rich lady that lives down the street. Repairing jewelry is not your favorite pastime, but you have to take on every assignment that is offered. Even after months of hard labor, your business isn’t as thriving as you would want it to be. Although people instantly admired your beautiful works and remarkable creativity, they still tend to shy away from you. 

No doubt because of your looks. 

People see you as an odd duck. You’re human, but you don’t look like one. You’re as tall as most dwarves, with the slender figure of an elf. Anyone can see that your unusual bright golden eyes and thick long silver locks do compliment your smooth complexion, but this rare fairness seems to be quite a problem. The humans around you resent you for your unique appearance. The dwarves you meet respect and hate you for your craftmanship. You’re as skilled as they are, and they don’t like that. After all, you’re a female. A female human that wears pants instead of dresses and forges jewelry like a skilled dwarf… how inappropriate!  
And the elves… You suppress as smile. It’s safe to say that they resent everything that isn’t an elf.

‘Lady Miriyan…’  
A low baritone voice almost makes you jump.  
‘My king.’ You say as you turn around to greet the one and only Thorin Oakenshield with a reverence.  
‘You don’t need to bow for me.’ He mutters. ‘You know that.’  
‘And yet I do.’ You answer.  
Thorin chuckles.  
‘So, you escaped your kingly duties today?’ you tease as you point out his casual clothing.  
Thorin smiles. ‘I wouldn’t call it escaping… More like a… short break. I left Fíli in charge today, so I can only hope the mountain still stands when I come back.’  
‘Oh! Poor Fee…’ You say and bite your lip to stop a giggle from coming out. ‘How is he doing? How’s everyone doing? I miss you all terribly.’  
‘You wouldn’t if you had stayed with us.’ Thorin tells you. ‘It was your choice to live here in Dale. We wanted you to stay.’  
‘Are you accusing me of abandoning my poor companions?’ you joke as you walk up to the door.  
You turn the sign of your shop to tell potential costumers you’re busy at the moment.  
‘I told you a thousand times why I had to leave.’ You add.

Thorin knows this is true and this is why he (this time) doesn’t argue with you about the matter. All your beloved dwarves tried to stop you from leaving them, but you were not to be persuaded. You told them you wanted to open your own working station, to fend for yourself. You told them you had to be near your own kin. The jewelry dwarf masters down in the forges in Erebor would never accept you, you said.  
‘But you’ll be alone… What if something happens to you?’ Balin had objected.  
‘Oh come one, Balin. I’ll be fine.’ You had countered him.  
‘I know that, lass.’ He had answered, trying to hide how shaken he was by the fact that you were leaving.

But there was that other reason why you felt the urge to leave, a reason no one knew. You knew damn well that if you in fact had stayed, after a while the skilled jewelry makers in the forges of Erebor would’ve accepted you. Maybe even like you. You would have found your place in the mountain. But another thing drove you away. A thing that you would never dream of sharing with the world. Since the moment you met Thorin Oakenshield, you had been terribly lost. You could stare at him for hours, admiring his broad and robust posture. His body was scarred and toughened by the harsh living conditions he once was forced to work in, but yet… so polished. So majestic. And his eyes… they could pierce right through you. You had fantasized over and over again about his beard rasping against your skin. Like that would ever happen…

Yes, you were an hopeless case.  
You loved him. 

But as lovesick as you was, you were also quite practical. You knew a relationship between (even a short) human and a dwarf was impossible. You knew Thorin would choose one of the available dwarrowdams as his queen one day, and you also were painfully aware of the fact you couldn’t be there to watch him do so. It would tear you apart. So, you told yourself that you needed some distance. Some time. Just you, a place to execute your work and some precious metals would do the trick. You would forget about him. Eventually.  
So, you did what you had to. You packed your belongings, said goodbye to the dwarves and left.

‘I’d like to ask you if you could craft a few things for me.’  
Thorin’s question brings you back in the room.  
‘Are you sure?’ you inquire.  
Thorin frowns. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’  
‘Perhaps because you’ve got dozens of skilled dwarves under your command in the forges of Erebor, who are more than happy to make anything you want. Who probably also will be very offended when they learn you rather ask me than them.’  
Thorin shrugs. ‘They’ve got plenty to do. I want something special, and I need you to make it for me.’  
‘Alright.’ You heave a sigh. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. What can I do for you?’  
Thorin follows you to the back, into your kitchen. In the last few months he has visited you a few times and you quickly developed a sort of a routine. You both like to sit in your kitchen, sharing ale and discussing all kind of subjects. It never stops to amaze you how funny the dwarf behind those walls of pride and honor actually is. You love to spend time with him.

‘As you know, I need to pick a queen soon.’ He begins as he sits down at your round kitchen table.  
‘Yes.’ You mutter and you hand him a mug containing ale.  
‘And you need me to make new courting beads?’  
‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘And some new royal jewelry, for both me and my future queen.’

You don’t want to raise this question, but you have to. 

‘And who is the lucky dwarrowdam?’  
‘I didn’t make up my mind yet.’ Thorin says.  
You laugh, because you’re actually quite relieved. 

‘Alright, is there a specific design you had in mind for your yet undetermined queen?’  
‘I don’t know…’ he replies. ‘What kind would you want, if they were made for you?’

You frown. That’s an odd question. Even from Thorin. Most customers know exactly what they want before they enter your door. But Thorin is… he is a king now. He probably doesn’t have plenty of time to think about how his new royal jewelry should look like. It makes sense that he asks you, the craftswoman, for advice.

‘It doesn’t matter if I like it, your future wife should. But hold on…’ You murmur. ‘Let me grab my sketchbook. I think I’ve got…’  
You don’t finish your sentence, because you feel the enthusiasm already running through your veins. This is the feeling you live for. You love it. The feeling of excitement and anticipation that makes your body tremble when you know you’re about to come up with a stunning design... After all these reparations you’re forced to take on, you sometimes forget why you wanted to be a jewelry maker in the first place. But now you remember again.

You get your sketchbook from your bedroom and sit down next to Thorin again. You browse through your book to find a page that doesn’t have your drabbles on it. But you tend to leave sketches on every empty patch you see, leaving the pages crowded with drawings. It’s safe to say you need a new book. On one of the last pages of it, you finally find an empty spot. You begin to draw.  
‘I could do…’ you tell him as you move your pencil over the paper.  
‘Something…like… this.’ You murmur. 

You don’t notice that Thorin watches your facial expressions rather than the actual design you’re drawing.  
‘So maybe I can inlay the gold with ruby and do…’ you suggest, your eyes pinned on the paper beneath you.  
‘What about this?’ Thorin interrupts as he points at one of your drabbles on the left page of your sketchbook.  
‘What?’ you say.  
‘This one.’ He responds, pointing at the drawing again. ‘You like this?’  
‘Erm. Yes.’ You stutter. ‘But that’s just a… raw design from my mind. It’s not finished yet.’  
‘I think it’s perfect the way it is.’ Thorin breathes. ‘Can you make it?’

You stare at your large sketch of a crown, fit for a queen. It’s a delicate, intricate design, inspired by the woods around the lonely mountain. But the level of its complexity is something you never have crafted before. Not that you ever worried you’d have to make it. Because after all, this is YOUR perfect crown. The one you wear in your dreams. And it should stay there.

‘Yes, I can.’ You admit reluctantly, not wanting a spoiled dwarrowdam wearing the crown of your desires. ‘But I would need special tools for this one. Tools I don’t possess. I can talk to the forge masters in Erebor for you. With the right instructions, they’ll know what to do.’  
‘I asked you.’ Thorin insists. ‘You can work in my forges.’  
‘But I told you, I won’t get accepted.’  
Thorin dismisses your objections with a wave from his hand. ‘That won’t be a problem, lady Miriyan. I will order them to accept you.’  
‘You can’t just order people to do that.’ You shoot back. ‘And how many times do I have to tell you: I’m not a lady!’  
‘Hmm, weird. You look like one.’ Thorin teases. ‘Besides, lady Miriyan… haven’t you heard of the stubbornness of dwarves?’  
You smirk. ‘I’ve had my fair share of dealing with a certain stubborn king, thank you.’  
‘Then you should know you’d better oblige.’ Thorin chuckles. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a few days after Thorin’s visit when you pack your tools and head for the lonely mountain. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you arrive before the gates of Erebor. As you pass a group of wealthy merchants, you instinctively pull your cloak closer around your body and lower your head. You don’t need them calling you out for your foreign looks. Luckily, they’re too busy discussing their trades to notice you. You heave sigh, relieved.

‘Who are you? And what’s your business in Erebor?’ the guard asks you as he is eyeing you suspiciously.  
You now look up.  
‘I’m Miriyan and I’m a jewelry maker.’ You reply. ‘I’m here to see the king.’  
‘The king doesn’t have time for you.’ The guard says. ‘He has enough skilled dwarves in the forges working for him. He doesn’t need you.’  
‘He requested for me to work in the forges for him.’ You insist.  
‘You’re a woman… Women are not capable of making jewelry.’ the guard scoffs. ‘Besides, what race are you, exactly? A half breed?’  
‘I’m human. And I traveled in king Thorin’s company to reclaim the mountain. I’ve seen the wrath of the dragon, the horrors of battle. I’ve helped building up his kingdom again!’  
You hold your chin up high as you speak to him and as you do, you notice a change in his eyes. It’s like he suddenly remembers the tales of a beauty with the silver hair and golden eyes, traveling along Thorin Oakenshield’s side in his quest to reconquer the mountain. 

‘Don’t you dare to refuse lady Miriyan!’

Both you and the guard turn to see who’s calling at him.  
Your mouth curves into a smile.  
‘Balin!’  
‘It’s great to see you, lass!’ he beams and he spreads his arms so he can embrace you.  
‘I’ve missed you guys so much!’ you confess as you let the old warrior hug you tightly.  
‘We missed you more.’ He tells you. ‘Come.’

Balin gives the guard a dirty look when you both pass him.  
‘Was he insulting you, my lady?’ he inquires.  
You shrug. ‘It was nothing, Balin. I’ll be fine. Really.’  
‘I don’t understand why people treat you this way.’ He ponders. ‘You are so kind, so respectful.’  
‘It’s because of the way I look.’  
‘What’s wrong with the way you look?’ Balin exclaims. 

You could tell him exactly what’s wrong with you, but at the moment you’re not in the mood for that. Instead Balin navigates you through the labyrinth of hallways as he talks about life in Erebor and inquires after your health and daily life at the city of Dale.  
‘Look, now we’re on more familiar territory.’ He declares as you enter the heart of the mountain. 

Near the throne room. 

‘Who is that?’ you say softly as you near a beautiful young dwarrowdam.  
Oh, she is fair. Her long black locks wave over her back and her green eyes compliment her flawless skin. She’s so pretty, and she knows it.  
‘Her name is Priya.’ Balin explains. ‘And the dwarf lord next to her is her uncle, lord Stormdust. He wants Thorin to court her.’  
‘He should. She is beautiful.’ You declare, trying to hide the hurt that swells up in your voice.  
Balin chuckles. ‘Maybe. But she’s got quite the attitude and you know him well enough to tell such a match won’t work.’  
‘Excuse me, girl.’  
Lord Stormdust breaks into your conversation by pushing you away in a rude manner. He turns to Balin.  
‘I need to see the king today, Balin. There are some important matters we need to discuss.’  
‘In time.’ Balin answers as he shows one of his diplomatic smiles. ‘The king is busy at the moment.’  
‘Where is he?’ lord Stormdust presses. ‘It’s urgent.’  
‘I don’t know where he is.’ Balin replies. ‘But he told me he couldn’t be disturbed all morning. I will see to it he will speaks to you this afternoon.’  
‘But-’ the dwarf lord begins.  
‘This afternoon you’ll be able to see him.’ Balin interrupts. 

You smile apologetically at him and his niece while Balin urges you to resume your way to the forges again.  
‘He’s quite eager to persuade Thorin, isn’t he?’ you say quietly.  
‘Yes.’ Balin mutters. ‘Between you and me, lassie… I don’t like him.’  
‘Me neither.’ You acknowledge.  
‘Come one. Let’s bring you to the forges. Thorin awaits you.’  
‘Thorin does what?’ you stammer.  
‘He wanted to lead you around the workplaces himself.’ Balin simply says. ‘I told him he had no time for it, but he ordered me to make some.’  
‘I’m sorry, Balin. I didn’t ask him to.’ You tell him. ‘I can take care of myself.’  
‘I said the same to him.’ The old warrior smiles. ‘But yet he was unmoved.’

You slowly make your way down to the forges. Although you’ve been here many times, though mostly only briefly, the mightiness of the great fires and huge anvils never stops to amaze you. Dozens of dwarfs are working together in the large space and the vibe that dominates the room makes you want to pick up an hammer and work with them. You cannot help but feel excited for your upcoming task.  
‘Lady Miriyan!’ Thorin greets you with a smile.  
‘My king.’ You answer and make a reverence.

That’s odd. You’ve never seen him smile like this.

‘Shall I show you around?’ Thorin proposes as he holds out his hand.  
You place your hand in his.  
‘Yes, I’d like that.’

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s in the middle of the night when you silently descend the stairs to the forges. You’ve been in Erebor for a few weeks now, working almost every waking hour on the Queen’s crown and matching courting beads. Thorin and you agreed that you should make those pieces first. If he likes them, you will to stay at Erebor to craft the rest of the royal jewelry. If he doesn’t, you can return home. Although you both know you can pull it off, the agreement makes you feel safe. If you can’t deal with the fact you’re in his proximity almost every day (and more specifically: the flock of dwarrowdams around him), all you have to do is screw up the designs. Or just leave the work in the hands of the other skilled dwarf masters in the forges.

You heave a sigh. It’s wonderful to be able to work with these fantastic tools and precious metals down here, but the dwarf nobles on the upper levels are driving you insane. You spend most of your time down here, but at some point you have to return to your room. Or get out of it, to get to your work place. It’s terrible. The dwarf nobles just stare at you when you’re in their presence. Especially the dwarrowdams like to gossip about you and don’t even care that you know they do.

‘Have you seen her eyes? Her hair?’  
‘What is she anyway?’  
‘I heard she’s a half blood.’  
‘Have you noticed those trousers she’s wearing? She’s a female!’  
‘She’s an abomination. I’ve never seen someone so ugly…’  
‘Does she want to make a statement in those clothes?’  
‘No men will ever want HER.’

You shake your head in an effort to stop remembering the remarks, but they keep flooding through your memory.  
That Priya and her uncle are the worst of the nobles. They are fully aware that you’re the one that crafts the royal jewelry for Thorin and they try to win you over by being overly friendly to you. In your face, that is. Once you turn your back again, you already can hear Priya starting to whisper to the other females.  
‘She’s so ugly… I can’t believe she dares to walk around like this…’

You groan. You hate that bitch even more than the other dwarrowdams. She’s cunning, trying to get the crown by backstabbing the others and forging filthy alliances. How can such an evil girl become Thorin’s queen? You can only pray Thorin is immune for her advances. Because if she succeeds, you’ll never be able to see him again…  
You flinch as your mind pictures them together. You don’t want to see them kiss, you don’t want to see her belly growing as she carries his child…

‘Stop it!’ you hiss as you slam your hammer unto the anvil.

You want to work, after all you still need to make the carvings into the courting beads, but you know you should take a break.  
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Alright, breathe. Everything will be fine. The crown is done. You just have finish those carvings and then you can go back to bed. Or even home.  
You turn around and want to start working again when your hand accidently touches the hot metal that’s on your anvil. You curse yourself for that single moment of inattentiveness and tears well up in your eyes. Damn, this hurts! 

‘OUCH!’ 

You bite in your other hand to keep yourself from crying out loud any further. It’s hard to believe, but you’ve never burned yourself before and for a moment you’re clueless. The pain makes your brain hazy and you have no idea what to do.  
Rough large hands come to your aid and lift you up like you’re as light as a feather.  
‘You need water to cool the burn down.’ Thorin rumbles as he rushes you to the nearest water fountain. 

Thorin?

‘What are you doing down here?’ you stutter. ‘It’s past midnight.’  
‘I could ask the same thing of you.’ Thorin mutters as he gently lowers your hand in the water stream.  
You whimper.  
‘It hurts, but eventually the water will soothe the skin.’ He tells you. ‘After that I will take you to the infirmary.’  
‘I’m fine.’ You protest. ‘I need to finish the beads!’  
‘Later.’ He urges.

Minutes pass and you’re still not allowed to pull your hand from the water. You have to admit that the water really is calming your skin down, but Thorin’s proximity makes it hard for you to breathe anyway. He refuses to let go of you, so here you are… In his arms. It’s the best and worst feeling in the world. You want to stay there forever, but you know this is impossible. You’ll never be in his arms again.

‘Can I-’ you begin, for the thousandth time.  
‘No.’ Thorin growls. ‘A few more minutes.’  
‘But…’  
‘Don’t you dare to make the burn worse by removing your hand.’ He threatens. ‘Don’t make it worse. It’s all my fault.’  
You frown. ‘How could this be your fault?’  
‘I asked you to do this.’ He replies, his expression taunted.  
‘I was the one who didn’t pay attention.’ You whisper. ‘I don’t see what you’ve got to do with my inattentiveness.’

Well… strictly he did, because he and his stupid dwarrowdams were on your mind when it happened… But you would never tell him that.

Thorin shakes his head.  
‘You feel obliged to work on my assignment every waking minute you’ve got. If I didn’t make you feel this way, this should never have happened.’  
‘You don’t make me feel this way.’ You sigh. ‘I’m…’  
Thorin’s eyes burn through your soul and you know he doesn’t believe you.  
‘Infirmary.’ He says as he lifts you further up.  
‘I can walk!’ you shout.  
Thorin ignores you and takes you up the stairs.  
‘I won’t allow you down here for the next few days.’ He simply states. ‘You need to rest.’

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve spend a full day in the infirmary and therefore you have lost precious time. An hour ago, Oín finally decided that you’re well enough to leave again. He has put some kind of ointment on your hand and bandaged it. Although you had to promise him to rest for the night in your room, you’re stubborn and make your way down the forges again. Thorin will kill you if he finds out, but you don’t care. 

You descend the stairs and with each step, you can feel the immense heat that the forges produce getting heavier. Someone is working down here… You frown. How? It’s not even dawn yet.... You’re used to being alone here during the nights…  
You hesitate for a moment and linger on the staircase before you decide you’ve got every right to be here. You take the last steps down and enter the large space. 

The forges are up and running and you can already hear the sounds of an hammer pounding into hard steel. You slowly make your way to the occupied anvil.

‘I told you not to come down here for the next couple of days.’ Thorin grumbles when he sees you.  
You just stand there, completely mesmerized by his bared chest. It takes all of you not to gape at the sexy sight.  
‘I was curious.’ You manage to say. ‘I wanted to see how my crown is doing. She’s finished.’

You bite your lip when you realize what you’ve said.  
My crown.  
Oh no. 

‘Your crown is so beautiful.’ Thorin responds as he picks the object up and holds it in his hand.  
You study his face to see what he actually thinks about your remark, but he’s a master in hiding his emotions.  
‘I saw it when I came down here.’ Thorin continues as he lets it gliding through his hands. ‘I don’t think anyone could’ve done a better job.’  
You blush.  
‘Thank you.’ You say. ‘I’m glad you like it, my king.’  
‘I do.’ Thorin agrees and he walks up to you. 

Before you can take a step back, he puts the crown on your head.

‘What are you doing?!’ you cry out as you lift the delicate jewelry from your head again almost immediately.  
‘It’s a perfect fit.’ He whispers. ‘Don’t you see?’

You frown and stare at him. He stares back. Although it’s extremely hot in the room, you know that’s not what’s making your breathing shallow and your cheeks burning. Thorin takes a step closer, reducing the space between you and him until you can feel his hot breath on your skin.  
You bite your lip again. You’ve always admired his good looks from a safe distance, but to watch him from up so close is a true privilege. His gaze bores into you and the intensity in which he watches you almost makes you moan. 

‘You look stunning.’ Thorin groans. ‘Forgive me.’

Just when you want to ask him WHY he is apologizing, he pulls you into his arms. He is so close… His lips brush briefly over yours before he leans in and starts kissing you gently. It takes everything of you not let a soft whimper leaving you. His mouth is so warm and his lips are… so much softer than you could ever imagine. The crown slips from your grip and with a loud clatter it falls on the stone floor, but you’re both too caught up in the kiss to care. Your arms are around his waist. His hands are caressing your soft silver hair and you cannot help but to...  
It’s so good, it’s too much… You are starting to question your orientation!

‘But…’ you stutter as he finally lets go of your lips. You breathe heavily and just stare at him, not capable to form coherent sentences anymore.  
‘I don’t WANT to court any of those spoiled dwarrowdams. Especially not someone like Priya. She stands for everything I hate in a woman. She cannot be my queen.’ Thorin confesses.  
‘But she’s the niece of your most influential nobleman’ you try.  
‘I don’t care.’ He interrupts you. ‘I never cared for her. Or the others.’  
‘You should.’ You whisper.  
‘Maybe. But they weren’t there, were they?’ Thorin states. ‘You were, lady Miriyan. In my darkest hours, you were there. One of the few that didn’t leave when I started to lose my mind.’  
‘I did what I had to.’ You object.  
‘No. You didn’t have to do it. I’m not your king. You owe me nothing.’ Thorin remarks.  
He strokes your cheek and smiles.  
‘But yet you always were there for me. You never judged me for my weakness. You didn’t question me. Didn’t try to talk sense into me. You just listened. You made sure I wouldn’t have to face the darkness alone.’

The lump in your throat makes it impossible for you to speak, so instead you just nod.  
‘I loved you since the moment I saw you.’ Thorin declares. ‘But I didn’t know if you felt the same. Until you refused to give up on me.’  
Thorin suddenly frowns, like he remembers something he’d rather forget.  
‘But when I finally regained my senses, you packed your things and you left… And I couldn’t persuade you to stay.’  
‘I needed to-’ you begin, but Thorin puts his finger over your lips.  
‘There I was. It made me painfully aware that I possessed all the wealth in the world, but yet I couldn’t have the greatest treasure of all… You, Miriyan.’

‘Don’t you see?’ you blaze, unable to reign your feelings any longer. ‘Don’t you understand I had NO choice but to leave?’  
‘There’s always a choice, my sweet amrâlimê.’ Thorin responds, not impressed by your sudden bravura.  
‘I love you.’ You blurt out. ‘And I’m NOT going to stick around watching you court someone else. I can’t. You cannot ask that of me.’  
‘I won’t.’ he answers. ‘But I will ask you this…’

He shows you the courting beads you were working on. The carvings he made are beautiful and make you gasp.  
‘You finished them?’ you breathe against his chest.  
‘Yes. For you.’ He answers.  
‘I don’t understand…’ you say.  
Thorin smiles and gently pushes your chin upwards, so your eyes can meet his.

‘My lady Miriyan…’ he whispers softly. ‘Will you allow me to court you? Will you be my queen?’

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this story needs a second part. 
> 
> Because what will Priya (and all dwarf nobles) do when she discovers the courting bead in Miriyan's hair?  
> How will Thorin react?
> 
> Do you want a second part? Let me know :)


End file.
